


Hope

by Rosewood_Writes



Series: Iron Maiden [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Mom!quisitor, Pre-Relationship, Reunion Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-01
Updated: 2018-12-01
Packaged: 2019-09-05 06:58:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16805713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rosewood_Writes/pseuds/Rosewood_Writes
Summary: After the destruction of Haven, the inquisition finds itself without its Herald. But it takes more than an avalanche and a blizzard to keep Ilya away from her troops.





	Hope

The wind bit bitter cold on Blackwall’@ cheeks. Ice stuck to his beard and his eyebrows, chilling his skin as it froze and refroze again and again. Despite the discomfort, he kept on his watch, desperately hoping to see her come through the storm. Ilya was a tough woman; she’d walk out of the blizzard at any minute, probably hauling a pile of wounded soldiers on her back. It wasn’t possible that the tainted creature had defeated her. Over the last few months, she had given him the impression that she was indestructible.  
But as the night dragged on, his hope began to waver. Hours had passed and there was no sign of her. The storm was beginning to abate. He could see further down the mountain, but still saw no sign of her. Maker, what if she had died? Blackwall shook the thought from his head.  
Voices from down below caught his attention. Blackwall peered back down at the camp, spotting the next watch crew hiking up the hill. He stifled a yawn at the thought of warming his hands by the fires and a nice hot meal. But as his thoughts drifted back to Ilya, part of him didn’t care how long he had to wait, if it meant seeing her alive.  
His head snapped up when he heard the sound of crunching snow grow louder. He looked to either side, trying to discern the origin of the sound. The new watch crew was still too far away to be so loud. Gripping his dwindling torch tighter in his hand, he stepped away from the stone wall where he was huddled and peered down the mountainside. Part of him expected to see wolves. They had been a minor nuisance to the watch parties thus far, drawn by the smell of food on the fires.  
But there were none visible through the flurry of snow in the torchlight. The crunching of footsteps grew louder still, and a shape appeared in the gloom, an indistinct shadow staggering in the night. Blackwall reached for his sword, fearing the worst; had the Red Templars found their camp so soon?  
He took another step forward, trying to better see who was approaching. After a few tense seconds, Ilya appeared in the torchlight, stumbling and shivering, but alive. A cry of relief escaped him as he shouted back down the camp. The scouts headed to relieve him went rushing back down the trail to camp, parroting his call.  
Blackwall charged through the knee deep snow, shouting for her. Ilya looked up at him, her eyes tearing up either from the cold or relief. She took a few shaky steps before collapsing to her knees. He slid to a stop in front of her, holding her head up to make sure she was still conscious. Never in his life did he think he’d be so happy to see those blue eyes staring back at him, albeit dazed and out of focus.  
“I’m okay,” She whispered, smiling weakly as she clutched his wrists. “I’m freezing my ass off, but I’m alive.”  
“Maker’s balls, Woman; don’t you ever do something like that again,” Blackwall said as he hugged her. Her skin was like ice on his, but she hummed contentedly as she wrapped her arms around his neck and nuzzled into his beard.  
“Don’t worry; I don’t plan on it,” She replied, snuggling in closer. “Andraste’s Ass, you’re so warm. Don’t let go.”  
Blackwall chuckled, but said nothing. He didn’t plan on letting go anytime soon. Part of him worried the storm would suck her right back in, never to be seen again. The other part worried she’d go charging off on her own volition.  
As the soldiers and healers arrived, they hauled her to her feet and out of his arms. With a scowl and a string of angry, tired curses, Ilya shook them off, insisting she was capable of escorting herself. Blackwall walked beside her, ready to catch her if she fell. But, with several blankets clutched around her shoulders like a thick, awkward cape, she trudged beside him through the snow, probably driven by the smell of stew boiling over the fires.  
The quiet murmurs that filled the camp ceased as they walked through. Ilya waved as they made their way to the healers’ tents. People pointed and waved back. Some cried as they saw her, others fell to their knees in prayer- hopefully thankful prayers. Blackwall almost wanted to join them. It was a miracle she survived. Part of him wasn’t surprised though. After what she had been through, it would definitely take more than an avalanche to kill the Herald.  
As they reached the tents, the healers took her away, checking her fingers and toes for frostbite, healing bumps, bruises, cuts and sprains. Ilya made no complaint, content to sit by the fire and doze slightly as they worked, getting much needed rest. Blackwall watched at a distance, waiting for his turn to speak with her as the others clamoured around her. They needed reassurance that she was all right, something he had already gotten.  
“She’s tough---really tough, isn’t she?”  
Blackwall looked to his left. Ashton stood a ways away, watching the healers check on his mother once more. The mage looked over at him, a look somewhere between unease and relief on his face.  
“Aye, she’s one tough woman,” Blackwall said.  
“You’re the one that found her?”  
Blackwall shook his head, chuckling to himself. He wouldn't dare take that credit. “She found us. I was just on watch when I saw her coming our way.”  
“We didn’t even really get to speak when I arrived at Haven. I was worried I’d already lost her again before we even got to meet each other,” He shifted his weight uncomfortably. “Maker, even when she’s worn out she is intimidating.”  
“Ilya is quite the woman. Could scare the piss out of a dragon with just a look, she could.”  
Ashton smiled softly, “I always dreamed of having a real family back in the Circle, how great it would be to have them again. Funny, now that I‘ve found it, I don’t really know what to do.”  
“Talk to her,” Blackwall suggested. “She wants to get to know you.”  
“I suppose I’m just being overly cautious. What if we don’t get along?”  
“I’d find that very hard to believe. Go; looks like she’s expecting you anyway. Best not put it off any longer.”  
With a nervous sigh, Ashton slowly approached his mother’s tent. Blackwall’s heart eased as her face lit up. Maker, he adored seeing a smile on her face. Every inch of her lit up, the contagious kind of smile that no one could resist.  
She reached up and cupped her son’s cheek. For a minute, he thought she was going to cry. But, instead, she started to laugh and pulled him into a tight embrace. For several minutes she squeezed him, petted the back of his head, his face, his arms, just taking him all in. Ashton sat patiently through it, though it was obvious he was a little lost for words.  
Eventually, the healers came back again with more salves and fresh bandages, interrupting their reunion. They shooed him to the side as they checked on the gashes across her shoulders and on her chest, swapped bandages and spread fresh salve on the minor scrapes and nicks, gave her tincture after tincture to speed the healing process.  
After the healers and Ashton had left, Blackwall sat beside her while she slept, fully taking in just how exhausted and battered she was. The fine lines around her eyes and on her forehead seemed more pronounced. She looked like she had aged several more years in a single night. Her usually neat hair was falling out of its knot, sticking out at odd places. There were bruises and abrasions all along the left side of her face. But, Maker, she was a beautiful sight even still.  
Ilya stirred after a while. With a groggy yawn, she slowly pushed herself up to a sitting position. After several stretches, she turned to him and smiled tiredly, “Didn’t know you were still around. Is there food? Thought I smelled something cooking.”  
“Here; I can get you more if you’re hungry,” Blackwall passed her half a loaf of bread and a bowl of chilled stew the healers had brought her. She accepted it gratefully, scarfing it down as quickly as she could. The fact that it was cold didn’t seem to bother her. Once she had downed the last of the stew, she leaned into him slightly, still shivering slightly even with her blankets swaddled around her.  
“How long?” She asked. “Were you waiting for me, I mean.”  
“Several hours,” He replied. “I was just about to switch shifts when you showed up.”  
“I’m surprised you all didn’t move on,” Ilya said. “Corypheus could have come after you.”  
“After you dropped a mountain on his army? No, Cullen and Cassandra insisted we stay, at least for the night. The civilians were too shocked, and there were wounded soldiers who wouldn’t be able to keep up. They needed time to ground themselves, even if was only for a moment.”  
“I suppose that makes sense,” Ilya nodded slowly. “I almost thought you were a dream, you know. For a moment, I thought I would wake up back in that tunnel, or worse.”  
“For a moment I thought the same about you.”  
She smiled up at him. “Such a sweetheart, always worrying about me.”  
“Ilya, you almost died,” Blackwall frowned slightly. It had been far harder to leave her behind than he liked to admit. “When I saw that mountain fall, I thought it was all over. We all did.”  
She stayed silent for several minutes. For a moment, it seemed like she wasn't going to answer. When she did, he could barely hear her. “You weren't the only one that was afraid. When I saw that snow falling, heard the ice cracking and giving way… Maker, I almost shit myself. Nothing gets the heart pumping like the sigh of half a mountain coming down on you.”  
Blackwall gave a small snort of laughter. “Of course you make it a joke.”  
She bumped her forehead into his, flashing that sneer that never ceased to make him smile. The sneer softened after a moment. “I’m glad you’re alright.”  
“As am I, My Lady.”


End file.
